“We’re not going very far in,” said Clothilde. “I just want to map your version of the Great Library onto mine, so that we can go together in future. While you’re being initiated it will help you to go into my version until you build up enough strength to go to your own. Eventually we’ll be able to merge our versions in order to be in there together. And then you’ll be able to visit your version on your own too. Does this make any kind of sense at all?”

“Yes.” Effie nodded. “I think so.” She already knew that the Great Library was in a different dimension and in order to become real here it had to be sort of folded down into three dimensions. Everyone did this in their own way, which meant the library looked different to each person who went in. Generating the library took lots of lifeforce. That was only one of the reasons it was dangerous.

Clothilde opened the door.

“Okay,” she said. “Step inside. Just a small step. Concentrate—but not too hard. Get your brain onto the frequency you use to do magic.”

“All right,” said Effie.

“Now tell me, what do you see?”

It was the same as the last time she’d been in here. Effie described to Clothilde the small country-house library she saw in front of her, with its old-looking bookshelves and dark polished wood floor. There was a wooden filing cabinet that held the classification system. And, of course, the books, all shelved so neatly, with their spines in dark, sober Realworld colors: red, blue, brown. Effie described the yellow wallpaper, with its faint mint-green stripe pattern. There was a small reading table with a chair next to a window on the right-hand side. Last time Effie had been here it hadn’t had a little lamp. But today there was one.

“Is it supposed to change?” Effie asked Clothilde, when she got to that bit.

“It will change a little for a while at the beginning as you get used to it,” she said. “It’s normal. There’s no need to worry unless it changes a lot. Right. Take my hand.”

Effie held Clothilde’s hand. It was small, dry and soft.

“Now close your eyes. And listen. My library is similar to yours, but different. There are all the same books, for one thing: We don’t get to decide that bit. But my library is arranged around a central spiral staircase. There is a gallery rather like yours, but my shelves are all around the main walls. In the middle of the room are four reading desks. They are all made of old wood—again similar to your library. Each one has a pen pot containing a fountain pen and a pencil, and each one also has a little jar of peacock blue ink. And on each desk there’s blotting paper. . . .”